


For The Night

by staymagical



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Foreplay, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mentions and accusations of pedophilia, Mentions of voyeurism with a minor present, NO PEDOPHILIA OCCURS, Prostitute Merlin (Merlin), Prostitution, injuries, terrible parenting, wrongful charges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymagical/pseuds/staymagical
Summary: Fueled by desperation, Merlin agrees to spend the night with a man for less than he usually charges. It all goes downhill from there.





	For The Night

**Author's Note:**

> This story was for the Camelot Drabble prompts 353-355: Impulse, All I ask, and Replacement.
> 
> Originally had it going in a different direction but the story just had a mind of its own and well, here it is. Read end notes for explanations and whatnot

A soft breeze dances down the pavement, leaping along the brick facade of the nearly empty pub and tickling Merlin’s hair up across his forehead. He shivers, the sheer mesh shirt he’s wearing not nearly enough protection from the teasing fall weather. The season is turning and soon, despite the plummeting temperatures, work will pick up again. The colder weather is brutal for the workers, but kids back in school and men being cooped up all day is the perfect recipe for anxious johns desperate for a good fuck and a fresh new body to keep them warm at night.

But business is still too slow, the streets littered with families out enjoying the last few days of summer together and men more interested in a night with their mates than a scantily clad fuck boy working the corner.

Merlin sighs, leaning back against the pub, the chill from the cooled bricks sapping the warmth from his back. He knows he should go back inside and try to push his luck with the few drunkards sprawled around the place, but he can’t bring himself to. Better to go a bit numb with cold and maybe score outside than give a messy blow to Old Man Simmons from down the block for a meager ten.

After fifteen minutes though, Old Man Simmons is starting to look more and more appealing than striking out again. He needs something, anything at this point.

With another sigh, Merlin levers himself off the wall to make his way back inside the pub. But he pauses as a dark-haired man approaches from down the street, trying to disguise the fact that he’s watching. Merlin easily slides into a seductive pose, eyes lidded, lips curling at the edges as he fingers the belt loops of his low-slung tight jeans. The man’s gaze is hungry, following the shift of his hips up to his nipples to settle on his lips. Merlin wets them and the man’s eyes latch onto the movement of his tongue.

When he reaches him, the man mimics Merlin’s smile and Merlin thrums with perverse pride. He’s reeled in a shark.

“Hey sweetheart,” the man says in a voice cool like water, leaning an arm against the bricks beside Merlin. “How much for the night?”

Merlin steps into his space and runs a teasing finger down the opening of the man’s shirt. “Depends what you’re looking for?”

“Whatever I want.”

Merlin runs his hand over the waistband of the man’s jeans. “250.”

The man scoffs, eyes sliding over Merlin’s revealing form. “I’ll give ya 100.”

With a shake of his head, Merlin pushes himself flush against the man and turns his hips a little to rub him just right. “That’s not—“

“Fine, piss off then.”

A wave of irritation washes through Merlin as the man turns away. He can’t afford to strike out again tonight. This month has been hard enough with too many dry spells as of late, forcing Merlin to venture where he wouldn’t and stay out hours beyond what he usually does just to scrape by. And he’s not even managing that. He’s a week behind on his rent, been without electricity for a little over a month now and is barely able to pay for food. His pride however, won’t let him take any sort of cut. He’s worked hard to get to these prices and doesn’t want to lower himself back down just to satisfy some drunk bloke searching for a cheap lay.

But at this point, he’s taunting with homelessness and he really doesn’t want to be stuck on the streets come winter.

Before he can even think further though, impulse pushes Merlin after the man. “No, wait.” He links his arm through the john’s with a sultry smile. “Lead the way, handsome.”

The way turns out to be several dark alleys escorting them to a dingy hotel a few blocks from the pub. Merlin latches himself into his newest john , putting on a flirtatious performance of caresses and rubbing intermixed with purring promises of a pleasurable night. The john is receptive and responsive, eager hands roaming places just on the border of acceptable for public places. But soon enough they are stumbling down a dimly lit hallway of the hotel, hands no longer kept in check, lips leaving trails of kisses and marks. The john is fumbling with the keycard outside his door, more than a little distracted as Merlin suckles unrelenting at his neck with a hand massaging him to hardness through his jeans.

“Mmmm need you.” Merlin purrs, breathing into the john’s sensitive inner ear. The john shivers, fingers digging hard into Merlin’s ass.

“I’ll fuck you real good, sweetheart. You won’t be able to walk for a week. Ruin you for all others.”

Merlin plows through in his ministrations of the john. They all say that. They all think they’ll be the one he will remember, the best lay he ever had, the man who leaves his mark on him. And some have, carving the evidence of their night together in a few sharp scars on his body. None worth cherishing in the least bit.

But Merlin would be a fool not to play into it.

Finally, the door clicks open and they stumble into the room, the john shoving his tongue down Merlin’s throat while ineffectively trying to tear his shirt off. Merlin follows, giving as the man takes, only breaking apart for a second to allow the man to free him of his shirt before it tore at the seams.

Without a word, the john shoves Merlin backward and he falls splayed out onto the nearest bed, bouncing with the force of it. He’ll be rough, Merlin can already tell. He mentally prepares himself for the array of bruise and aches he’ll limp home with. Just another night’s work.

It's as the john is fumbling at Merlin’s fly, trying to claw his way through the denim that Merlin is finally able to take in the hotel room. And that they are not alone.

“Jesus!” Merlin scrambles out from under the john and to his feet beside the bed, his heart beating wildly.

For there on the other bed sits a boy, no more than five or six, utterly silent and still, his wide eyes following Merlin’s every move.

Merlin gawks at the child for a beat before leveling his anger at the john. “What the f—frick! There’s a kid!”

He can scarcely believe what he is seeing. Why the hell is there a kid in the john’s hotel room? A room, that he had knowingly and willingly brought Merlin to in order to fuck him. The poor kid had probably so far tonight seen a whole lot more than he ought to. And probably would have caught the whole damn show if Merlin hadn’t taken notice of him.

What the fuck was going on?

“Ignore him, he won’t bother us. He knows not to disturb his father during playtime.” The john tries to pull Merlin back toward the bed but Merlin steps out of reach. He fumbles to fix his pants and make himself more PG friendly.

“Ignore him—you can’t be serious. I’m not doing—“ Merlin gestures to the john and himself to emphasize his point, “—this in front of a kid!”

The john scoffs, annoyance straightening his shoulders. “It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.”

Horror rocks Merlin back onto his heels. “Jesus!” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, almost unwilling to believe what he’s hearing. But one look at the little boy sitting frozen at the head of the other bed, eyes wide with signs of fear and recognition and he knows this isn’t some sick joke. “No, we’re done here.”

Merlin grits his teeth and snatches up his shirt, making to push passed the john. But a hand latches onto his bicep like a vice and he’s pulled back, harsh and demanding. Merlin stumbles, nearly crashing back onto the bed when the back of his knee hit the mattress.

The john’s playfulness is gone, a threat having taken its place as he steps into Merlin’s space and pulls him close with a hand to his ass. “We’re just getting started. You’re mine for the night.”

With a growl, Merlin pushes him away. “Not anymore, I’m not.”

He purposely doesn't look at the kid, unsure if he can stand to see the fear he himself undoubtedly put there. He’s not sure what this kid has been exposed to in his life—from what his father hinted at in the short time they’ve been here, it’s more than he ever should—but Merlin can make damn sure he’s not the cause of more. And when he gets out of this room, he can ensure the police become aware as well. He might get jail time for it but damn the consequences, this kid should not be exposed to the exploits of his father.

“I’m paying you.” The john steps into Merlin’s path, effectively blocking his exit. Merlin tries to snuff out the hints of panic and fear bubbling up inside him. “You’re staying the whole night and giving me what I paid for.”

“You haven’t paid me anything.” Not that it matters at this point. Merlin can’t and won’t do anything with a child in the room. That’s way beyond crossing the line.

“Here.” The john pulls a wad of bills from his jeans pocket and throws them at Merlin’s feet. He flashes Merlin a cocky smirk. “Now strip like a good little whore and I might even let you cum.”

“No, I’m done.” A few bills crunch underfoot as Merlin pushes the john in the chest, letting the fear and anger strengthen him. “You can keep your damn money.”

The john stumbles back and Merlin leaps at the open pathway to the door.

He doesn’t make it far.

Arms wrap around his chest in a full body assault and he’s dragged forcibly back into the room and thrown to the ground at the foot of the far bed. The bed where the small boy sits silent and watching, confusion and fear welling in his eyes.

“I said, strip.”

Gone is the cocky smirk from the john’s face, now darkened and thunderous. This won’t end well, Merlin can see that.

Still, he makes another valiant attempt to make a run for the door. This time he only makes it to his feet before john is on him, grabbing him hard and throwing him toward the bed. Merlin flails, pushing, punching, gouging, trying to hit any part of the john he can but he’s off balance and the john has a good fifty pounds on him. He doesn’t stand a chance.

Though even as he’s thrown onto the bed, he rolls, trying to escape over the other side. The john is on him in a flash, grabbing him around the waist with a tug and flipping him over.

“Get off me!” Merlin immediately claws at his face, aiming for the john’s nose and eyes but the john is ready and anticipates his moves, dodging easily. He snatches Merlin’s wrists and pins them down with one hand before sitting his full weight on Merlin’s torso. Merlin gasps, the air pushed forcefully from his lungs and he lays stunned for a few precious seconds as he struggles to just take a breath. But none is forthcoming. Panic flutters like a trapped bird in his veins mouth open in a silent yell with no air to give it voice.

He should be used to this, used to constantly sitting on the knife's edge, never knowing when the scales might tip. He lives a high-risk lifestyle—not by choice but by necessity—such hazards come with the territory. But no matter how many times he’s found himself in such a precarious situation, he has never gotten used to it.

And he hopes he never will. He’s sure that’s the only reason he’s still alive today.

But for how much longer?

Merlin finds strength again and bucks his hips, heart pounding with fear and desperation. A small squeak sounds from the direction of the child on the other bed and that’s all the warning Merlin gets as his head is suddenly knocked to the side with the force of a punch. His vision wavers but Merlin barely feels the pain. With a particularly harsh buck of his hips, he dislodges the john long enough to take a full breath of air but it’s short-lived. Another few quick sharp punches to the head, one catching him across his brow and two to his temple, and his vision darkens. He can feel the john’s weight shifting on top of him, the pressure on his arms increasing.

Merlin freezes at the sound of metal clicking together. Even though his vision is blurry at best, the sound is unmistakable.

Handcuffs.

Terror jolts through him.

He’s no stranger to the assortment of kinks some men prefer and even enjoys some of them himself. But he’s acutely aware that in this instance it’s less for kink's sake and more to keep Merlin from leaving. To keep him within the john’s control.

Metal encircles his right wrist with a click.

With a raging yell, Merlin doubles his previous efforts, bucking with a strength fueled by terror, panic, and anger. The john is caught off guard and Merlin takes advantage of it, unseating him enough to slide off the side of the bed and spring unsteadily to his feet. The unlatched cuff swings wildly from his wrist but he pays it no mind. There's a dull ache in his head that’s growing with every second and the whole room sways. Or maybe that’s just Merlin.

“You don’t want to do this, mate,” says Merlin and honestly it would be more threatening if the room would just sit still for god's sake. “All I ask is for us to just go our separate ways and pretend none of this ever happened.”

“What are you gonna do, go to the cops?”

And alright yeah, that’s fair enough. Merlin deems it’s best to just keep his mouth shut and stand his ground as best he can. Damn, he really wishes he had taken some self-defense classes back in the day.

“Daddy?” a small voice breaks through their standoff and steal both men’s attention away from the other. Over on the bed, the boy rubs his teary eyes, exuding an innocence and vulnerability that leaves Merlin’s protective instincts screaming.

That was him once. When he had a family, a home, a safety that he has yet to find again. When he knew nothing of the dangers this world held, the pain, the heartache, the struggle. When he was ignorant to the levels of cruelty humans would go to to get what they wanted, to the low levels they’d stoop to just to survive. How far he’d fall.

It’s too late for him, but it doesn’t have to be for this kid.

“Shut your goddamn mouth!” growls the john, stepping toward the boy with a rage fueled by resistance which in turn sets Merlin instincts on fire.

He steps in front of the john, blocking his path to the kid. “Don’t touch him.”

Merlin is acutely aware of the danger he’s just drawn back onto himself but there’s no taking it back as the john’s rage turns back to him with a cold murderous glare. But even given the chance, he’s not sure he would have chosen differently. Better him than the kid.

The punch, he saw coming, but he still isn’t fast enough to dodge it. The john’s fist catches him hard and sharp on his left cheekbone and he stumbles to the side, away from the bed and the kid.

“The fuck do you think you are? I’m his father.”

Merlin blinks. His cheek throbs with an anger he feels welling up inside him and it comes pouring out before he can think better of it. “A piss poor one at that. Subjecting your kid to this sort of thing.” And because he really has no filter at this moment, he spits out, “Where’s his mother?”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Another blow catches Merlin on his jaw, but miraculously, he’s able to keep his feet. “You little fuck!” screams the john and then the blows are raining harder and Merlin is stumbling this way and that, putting his arms up to protect his face, his head, anything. It’s useless though. At some point, his heels catch on something and he barely registers he’s falling before he’s flat on his back, a soft forgiving mattress beneath him. Between one heartbeat and the next, the john is on top of him and time blurs in and out with his waning consciousness.

He thinks he hears the boy scream and cry at some point during Merlin’s assault but his senses are dimming and he can’t be sure it wasn’t his own. All he knows is pain and fear, and an odd sense of relief that at least the kid can make an escape. The blows die after a bit and Merlin only registers the reprieve when he feels his arms being manhandled above his hand and metal clicking into place around the other wrist. His whole body throbs and beats in agony with his heart and he knows he doesn’t have much strength to fight anymore, that his consciousness is slipping even as he tries valiantly anyway.

It’s no use. His pants are stripped off him in a few good tugs, even as he spits curses and pleas in equal measure.

“Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look,” he begs to the room, to the boy, to himself though he’s not sure the words even leave his mouth or if they are simply just the mumblings of a beaten down whore trying to escape his lot in life.

Thankfully, someone somewhere listens and Merlin falls into darkness with the feeling of fingers digging into his thighs.

* * *

 

Coming-to from forced unconsciousness is never easy. For Merlin, it usually smells of sweat and blood and sex, aching from bruises and lacerations and laying in an alley or on some dingy cum-splattered mattress. This time around is different. Antiseptic greets him first, wafting through the air like dark clouds promising rain. Merlin groans, his head and face aching something fierce, along with his chest and several other limbs. He can feel gauze and bandages pulling and muffling the feeling around his wrists and of course the telltale deep sharp pain in his backside.

It’s only the second time Merlin has woken in the hospital and that’s honestly two times too many in his opinion. They ask too many questions and care too much and have a knack for ringing up their cop friends if they suspect anything at all.

He can’t stay here.

He only manages to open his eyes just a slit before he’s slamming them shut again, cursing the bright overhead lights. The ache in his head increases tenfold.

So Merlin resigns himself to the arduous task of stumbling out of the room half blind and he’s perfectly fine with that. Hospitals mean information and time he doesn’t have. Hospitals mean authorities.

The door to the room opens just then and Merlin nearly jumps out of his skin, forcing his eyes open against the pain, afraid he’s been caught. A short petite woman in light purple scrubs enters and closes the door behind her and Merlin will his racing heart to calm.

She doesn’t smile when she sees Merlin awake, just barely acknowledges him at all besides a cursory, “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Merlin says, voice grating like metal on pavement. He clears his throat, coughs and then coughs a hell of a lot more when air seems to be on short supply. Damn, that hurts.

The nurse pours and hands him a cup of water which he downs in a few gulps.

“How did I get here?” he manages to wheeze. Even just talking hurts. What a goddamn mess he is.

“The boy called emergency services.” She flips a page in Merlin’s chart and studies it half-heartedly.

“Is he alright?” asks Merlin.

“I'm not at liberty to discuss other patients.”

Merlin's heart drops into his stomach like a stone. Patients. So no, he is not okay. It hadn’t been enough. If he had just fought a little harder maybe—

Merlin closes his eyes and wills the world away. It wouldn’t do to dwell on the could haves and would haves. What happened happened, there was nothing he could do to change it now.

When Merlin opens his eyes at the sound of the door opening, the nurse is gone and a man is entering his room. A man in a button down and trousers that looks much too serious to be anything but a cop. Merlin groans.

“Mr. Emrys, I’m Detective Valiant Sherman with the Camelot Police Department.” Merlin reigns in his shock before it shows on his face. He’s never had to deal with a detective before, just the standard beat cops. And he’s not sure what that means exactly, though it can’t be anything good he’s sure. “Would you mind answering a couple of questions for me?”

It’s protocol, nothing more, and Merlin knows that. He’s had his fair share of run-ins with the cops, enough to know that no matter what he does or doesn’t say, they’ve already made up their minds about him. His fate was decided the second the police were called.

So Merlin remains silent.

“Merlin Balinor Emrys,” the detective recites, unfurling a file like a valedictorian speech. “Born in Ealdor in 1993 to Balinor and Hunith Emrys, both deceased. 26, single. Place of residence: 1536 Klindale Ave #13A. Occupation: prostitute. How am I doing so far?”

“What do you want?” Every bit of information read out tightens the knot of worry in Merlin’s stomach.

“The truth. What happened last night?”

Last night. Merlin flicks his gaze to the clock on the wall and then quickly back to his hands. 8:27. So he’s been here anywhere from a couple of hours to most of the day. There’s no telling, not from the comfortable imprisonment of this hospital bed.

“Do you have any kids, Mr. Emrys?”

Merlin gives the file in the detective’s hands a pointed nod. “You should know that.”

“Any unknown products from one of your many clients?”

Merlin didn’t answer.

The detective sighs and closes the file, stepping further into the room and sitting himself down in the bedside chair with all the air of a king taking his throne. Merlin shifts away.

“The kid from last night, he’s not yours is he?”

“I never said he was,” Merlin answers, clipped.

“You haven’t said much at all.” The detective cocks his eyebrow as he leans forward. His gaze all but strips away Merlin’s skin, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

When Merlin doesn’t deign to answer the detective’s question, he continues, “He seems to think he is.”

It comes out abrasive as Merlin says, “He’s not.”

“Then tell me why he keeps telling my deputies you’re his daddy?” asks the detective. He leans even further, seemingly spurred by receiving a response.

Merlin’s brain short circuits as the detective’s words sink in. He blinks. “I’m no one’s daddy.”

“Just someone’s fuck boy right?”

Merlin stays silent, in part because he’s angry over this treatment but mostly because he's still trying to make sense of everything and failing to come up with a logical explanation for any of it. Clearly, there is something he’s not understanding, something very big that is about to come crashing down around his ears.

And it does as, undeterred by Merlin’s silence, the officer drops the bomb, “There was a child present, a minor, and yet that didn't deter you did it? Or were you hoping he'd join in? Offer him sweets and candies if he'd just come over—”

“Whoa, wait a second. I didn’t do anything!” Prostitution he was prepared for. Charges involving a minor? He will have that black mark forever, the word pedophile sewn into his skin like an infectious disease. “I was trying to leave!”

“You and Mr. Cenred King both agreed he’d pay you for sex, yes?” asks the detective with the same stoic expression.

“Yes,” Merlin grits out.

“And money exchanged hands.”

“But I refused after—”

“With a minor present?”

Merlin shakes his head desperately wishing to wake from this nightmare. This isn’t happening, it can’t be. His voice raises with fear and horror. “He wasn’t involved! I would never—”

“And you did have sex, didn’t you?” Detective Sherman plows on, impassive and unperturbed as he effortlessly picks Merlin apart bit by bit.

“Not willingly!”

“Did you or did you not have sex with Mr. King?”

“He raped me.” Merlin can feel tears building, his throat closing in anger and fear. He truly shouldn’t be surprised. He’s a prostitute, a gay one to boot, nothing but scum in the eyes of most, especially the law. Why should he get any sort of reprieve now?

Because it’s wrong. Because for once, he’s not guilty of anything he’s being accused of. Because he tried to do the right thing and despite the outcome, it could have been a lot worse.

And now it’s blown up in his face.

But he doesn’t regret what he did. Just that he didn’t protect the boy better.

Detective Sherman’s voice lowers, hardening into a threat. “Answer the question, Mr. Emrys.”

He can feel the walls closing in with no choice but to answer, “Yes but—”

“Mr. Emrys,” says Detective Sherman, extracting a pair of handcuffs as he stands up from his chair with all the judgment of a death sentence, “you are under arrest for soliciting prostitution, indecent exposure with a minor, endangering a minor—”

“No wait, I didn’t—” Merlin jerks back as the detective approaches, desperation fueling the panic welling up inside him, churning into nausea so severe, he can barely contain it. He knows what happens to convicted pedophiles in prison. It truly is a death sentence. “I was trying to leave—”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Merlin is nearly in tears shouting for his life. “He fucking raped me—”

A metal cuff clicks around Merlin’s right wrist before he even realizes what’s happening and Detective Sherman locks the other around the hospital bed rail.

Merlin wants to laugh at the irony but it comes out as more of a sob.

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one—”

“—I was trying to protect the kid—”

Merlin’s words are cut off by the door opening once more, capturing both men’s attention.

“Don’t say another word,” advises the intruder, stepping into the room, blue eyes set and a face that means business. He’s broad but lean with gentle sun-kissed blonde hair and a posture that commands respect.

“Who are the hell are you?” Detective Sherman scowls, shifting his shoulders back and tilting his chin up in a challenge of the man’s authority. “This is police business, you can’t just—”

The blonde man doesn’t even let the detective finish, cutting him off effortlessly.

“I’m Arthur Pendragon, Mr. Emrys’ attorney.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, that's the end, that's all I really wanted to write. Maybe I'll have an urge to write more later, but most likely not. But here, have a bit of behind the scenes explanations: 
> 
> -When the kid screamed, he ran out and went for help to call the police. They came, arrested Cenred (the kid's dad) and uncuffed an unconscious Merlin from the bed and took him to the hospital. 
> 
> -Not wanting to return to his father's care or any of his family for that matter, the kid claimed Merlin was his dad hoping the police would just buy it and let him go with the nice man who had protected him (was originally going to have this work and Merlin then finds himself with a kid but logistically speaking, that would never work and Merlin would not want to subject a kid to his lifestyle nor be able to care for them both with his less than mediocre funds). 
> 
> -Arthur heard about Merlin through Leon (who is a detective of the police department and married to Morgana) and takes on his case pro-bono.
> 
> -Arthur's mother was a prostitute before she met and married Uther, which Uther vehemently tried to cover up, hide, and deny even after her death. Arthur takes on certain prostitute cases pro-bono in her honor and also in part just to go against his father's views on sex-workers.


End file.
